Vanya woke the night after the feast in his bed in the wing of the Imperial estate, white sheets tangled around his waist, half the space taken up by someone else. Servants had drawn the curtains at some point to keep out the sunlight for as long as possible, but it was clearly midday judging by the brightness that bit at the edges of the hidden windows and the heat creeping inside.
Soren lay beside him, sprawled out on his stomach, breathing deep and even as he slept. He looked younger like that, without the hardness that settled onto his face when awake. But Soren had known what he had wanted when Vanya had guided him away from the gardens after the feast was over and to this bed.
Faint bruises shadowed Soren’s hips, and Vanya knew if he fit his hands there, they would match his fingertips. It pleased him, even though Vanya knew he couldn’t keep the warden. An offer to stay and be his courtesan for a time would be soundly rejected, of that he was certain. Wardens had their duty, and that was something Vanya could respect.
Sighing softly, Vanya sat up and left the bed for the attached washroom. He went through his morning ablutions with a lazy attention to detail, mindful of the faint throb in his head from too much chilled wine last night. It wasn’t bad enough to keep him from returning to bed and the man sleeping there, but Vanya had his own duties to attend to.
When he entered the bedroom again, a body servant waited for him. The young man bowed and proceeded to help Vanya into a set of light robes and trousers for the day, attending to him in a way he’d missed on the road.
“The kitchen sent a light spread, Your Imperial Highness. It’s set up in the living area,” the servant said in a quiet voice before bowing himself out.
Vanya turned to study himself in the mirror, catching sight of Soren’s gray eyes watching him in the burnished glass.
“Join me?” Vanya asked him.
“I need to get on the road,” Soren said, not moving.
Vanya tried not to feel displeased about that. “You can leave after.”
Soren let out a quiet sigh. “After, then.”
Vanya nodded and gestured at the low dresser against the far wall where the servants had, at some point that morning while they slept, deposited Soren’s gear. “Take your time.”
Vanya was seated at the table in the living area by the time Soren showed up, plate filled and headache powder sprinkled into his juice to hide the bitter taste of it. Fruit, cheese, spiced nuts, boiled eggs, and flatbread had been neatly placed on a platter. The heat wasn’t nearly as oppressive as it had been on the road, and the breeze coming from the open windows was nice.
Soren was dressed in his field leathers, but he’d left his weapons behind. He took the seat across the table from Vanya and didn’t hesitate in filling his plate with food. They ate in silence for a time, with Vanya flipping through the broadsheet a servant had left on the table with the food, perusing the news articles.
“Anything interesting?” Soren eventually asked.
“Only my miraculous rise from the dead,” Vanya replied.
“Truly a newsworthy event.”
The dryness of his tone had Vanya looking over at him, seeing the faintly teasing smile on the younger man’s face. “You seemed pleased enough last night with my presence.”
Soren shrugged, but the faint flush to his cheeks couldn’t be explained away by sunburn. “You asked me to join you.”
“You could have said no.”
Soren reached for a bunch of grapes and proceeded to pick them off the vine one at a time. “I didn’t want to.”
Vanya remembered the way Soren had sounded in his bed when Vanya had pinned him down and had him, taking pleasure before giving it. He remembered the way Soren had looked beneath him, while riding him, warm and wanting and Vanya’s to take apart. It was a memory he could keep, even if he couldn’t keep the man who made them.
“So you’ll sleep in my bed, and yet, you will not tell me what I can give you to make even our debt,” Vanya said.
“I told you that you owe me nothing. I’m a warden, princeling. Debts are meaningless to us.”
“And I told you they are not so easily wiped away.”
Soren let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “You belong to the House of Sa’Liandel. You’re the Imperial crown prince and Solaria’s heir. You have everything and anything at your fingertips to clear a debt. You can make it law, if you so choose.”
“And yet, you will accept nothing that I have to offer.”
Vanya stared at him, watching the way the smile faded from Soren’s face. He was too well trained to fidget beneath Vanya’s attention, meeting his gaze without looking away, without any sense of deference to it. His frank assessment was so different from all the courtiers and military officers Vanya was used to facing.
“I did my duty, as any warden would. Can’t that be enough?”
Perhaps it could be, if Vanya was anyone else but who he was. Except he knew if any of the Houses discovered that he had not paid Soren accordingly for the life debt owed, they would use that information against him and his House. That was leverage Vanya could ill afford anyone to have over him. His return from the dead was already making the negotiations with the House of Kimathi a fraught affair.
